The hardest thing
by timtom
Summary: It's been years since Jim Moriarty had last contact Sherlock, and on some point Sherlock had begun to accept regular life with John and their son, Hamish. But when Jim Moriarty suddenly becomes bored again, it's time for loose ends to be snipped. (T to be safe)


You have a very polite son, Sherlock. – JM

Don't try to play games with me, Moriarty. Hamish is safe and sound with John. – SH

You might want to double check that with your little love bird. – JM

If you hurt them, I swear I will hunt you down and I will show you just how little the side of the 'angels', suits me. – SH

And yet the devils are not one more for the better. – JM

What do you want, Moriarty? – SH

What do you _think_ I want? After all we've been through I thought you would've been more intuitive. – JM

You want a game. You want to be entertained. You want _me _to entertain you. – SH

Very good. – JM

And you're going to hurt the people I '_love_' to get me to play… very unoriginal, Jim. Running out of ideas? – SH

Effective ones don't count as ideas; those are tactics, dear. – JM

Get to the point. What do you want me to do? – SH

Well haven't you grown dull? What happened to the analytical deductions I've grown so fond of, dear? – JM

I've become… domesticated. You should try it – it's very calming. – SH

Oh I've grown fonder of domesticating others, honey. – JM

Well, I'll admit that doesn't surprise me. You seem to have you _dog _tamed well enough. – SH

And what is your spaniel, compared to my tiger? – JM

He has a set of morals for a start – I'd say that's enough already. – SH

That's just desperate justification. Sebastian's morals are just slightly shifted to fit work ethics. – JM

He's a cold-blooded killer; his work ethics are nothing to brag about. – SH

But you didn't answer me before. What game do you want to play? – SH

I never said I was bragging. And I think the game is more involved in finding out what are you ready to lose to get them back? – JM

You know the answer to that already, Jim; I'd do anything to get my family back. I honestly don't know why you're still so interested. This must be getting boring by now – it's all so… repetitive. – SH

Now, now. It's not fun if you don't put up at least some sort of fight. Repetition is the grandest form of practice. – JM

Fine, I'll play your game. But if I find that you have hurt John or Hamish, know I will find you, and I will end you once and for all. – SH

I'd like to see you try. – JM

You know, for all your brilliance, there's one major flaw in you. – SH

Better one Achilles heel than two vital vulnerabilities. – JM

Also, my Achilles heel is a top assassin. Your point is? – JM

Oh, well, yes, there is Sebastian, but I was thinking of something else… something a lot more, personal. - SH

There is nothing more personal to me than Sebastian. – JM

I don't believe that, Jim. I don't believe that Sebastian is the first person that has ever been important to you, or I'm sure you would be much more protective of him. I have no doubt that I'll be able to find that person. - SH

You wanted a fight, I'll give you one. –SH

I'm a man with respectable plans. I don't leave loose ends. – JM

No. You'll have slipped up once. You'll have left yourself vulnerable to _feelings_ and _emotions_ and you'll have found someone you cared about. I'm going to find that person. – SH

Yes, well. I would like to see which one would reach that person first. Sebby or you? – JM

So there is a person? Thank you for confirming that, I was just taking a shot in the dark. Well then, I'll be off. I've got work to do after all, don't I? – SH

One must always have a safety net, not matter how careful they are. Person or not, someone's going to die tonight. – JM

Perhaps… – SH

This is not a choice. This is a fact. Call Scotland Yard, the morgue is going to have a guest tonight,. – JM

I'll be sure to give them a heads up. – SH

But, while we're still talking, do you think Natasha Rhimeand misses you? She doesn't seem to have moved on since your relationship. – SH

Natasha Rhimeand? Doesn't ring a bell. Maybe you should look under 'Richard Brooks' ;) – JM

Giving me hints? Well someone's in a good mood. – SH

Honey, I'm always in a good mood when I'm talking with you. – JM

Oh, I'm surprised. Hmm, well this is flattering … - SH

I should like to think so; I'd hate to be predictable. – JM

It seems Natasha tried to have a restraining order put on you, Jim. Or should I say, _Richard_. – SH

You must've really broken her heart… - SH

Hearts were always made to be broken. – JM

_Richard _had the restraining order overturned. I guess he couldn't _bear _to stay away from her. – SH

Oh well aren't you a brilliant little burrower? How long did it take you to dig that up? Guess how long it took me to lay that trail? – JM

I don't believe you, Jim. I don't believe that you would lay a trail, wait for me to discover it and then tell me it's a fake _straight_ after I've uncovered it. I know you, Jim. You'd let me go a bit further down a fake trail before you alerted me. I think you're unnerved. –SH

Unnerved? Why Sherlock, is that what you conclude from this conversation so far? My, my, your detective skills have deteriorated these years. – JM

Nerve is just a pompous word for fear. And fear is just insufficient curiosity or people to protect. As far as I'm concerned, I'm not lacking either of these things. – JM

So what's the story with Natasha? What did you do to her? – SH

Not so what I did to _her_ than what she did to _me_. – JM

But that's not important right now, because within 5 minutes you will receive news that Natasha Rhimeand is dead. Valiant effort, but still not enough to get your family back. – JM

Oh Jim, you seem to have underestimated me. You see, while we've been talking, I've already tracked her down. Your sniper is too late. I'm at her door right now. And I would like to thank you for finally proving me right about Natasha. I'll be talking to you later, Jim. I'm sure. – SH

Well I guess you'll just have to watch her die. I'll make a call to Sebby, I'll only be a second, dear. – JM

Too late – so sorry. Natasha is a very understanding woman – very scared, but very understanding. She was more than happy to share a taxi with me, once I explained the situation. You seem to have really scared her, Jim. I'm sure she'll be more then helpful to me. – SH

Where will you run, little Holmes? You seem to forget that I still have your _boyfriend_ and son. – JM

You understand what this is, don't you? – JM

This is a Mexican standoff. – JM

Yes, it seems we've reached an impasse. – SH

I do believe an exchange is called for. – SH

Hm, but one bland woman for two kings? I'd rather you do what you want with Natasha and come up with a new strategy. – JM

Perhaps she can shed a little light on your past. – SH

And I don't believe you find her so bland, or you wouldn't have gone to so much trouble to kill her. – SH

My past is of no importance. At least not when it comes to aiding you to obtain your loved ones. I go to the same amount of trouble to kill all the people who are trouble. Don't make Natasha think she's special. – JM

She doesn't seem to need me to do that for her. She seems to think she's pretty special in your eyes – I don't believe she's particularly happy about that though. – SH

Oh no, I mean; I think you're special, and look what you've had to go through? – JM

Yes, well, I don't particularly blame her. – SH

But, I still fail to see what your game is, Jim. – SH

I have something you want, and you have something I want. What do we do now? – SH

How did you find us? – SH

Hm, Sebby is a good boy, isn't he? – JM

He's oh-so good at following targets. He's also a crack shot, especially in the dark. Tell me, did her brains splatter against the walls like an explosion or did they hang out of her face like pieces of egg shells? – JM

You won't win, Sherlock. You never will against me. – JM

She-…She was scared – you didn't have to do that. – SH

Yes I did. Loose ends must be snipped. – JM

She broke your heart, and you couldn't kill her yourself, so you had Moran do it for you. You're a coward. – SH

I don't dirty my hands with trivial things like that. I hire Sebastian for a reason. – JM

I will give your boyfriend and son one text each. Say your goodbyes – JM

If you kill them, what then? You'll have beaten me – what a boring world that will be. What would you do then? – SH

Good. Very good. Use that mind of yours. Shake it loose from its idle nest – it's time to start deducting again. There is a dead woman at St John's morgue called Joanna Dunes. She was murdered. You have 5 hours to solve her murder. Text me when you're done. x – JM

Please, could that have been any simpler? Joanna Dunes was poisoned – very slowly. Her wife had found out she was cheating, and wanted to get revenge, but wanted it to be slow- she wanted Joanna to suffer. She laced her food with light doses of rat poison and, very slowly, Joanna's mind slipped further and further away, and she became sicker and sicker. She finally worked out what was happening to her but by then it was too late. She got into an argument with her wife, who lost her temper and hit her over the head with a wine bottle, causing Joanna to fall into the pool and drown. – SH

Bravo! Tres bien! Now onwards. There is a man in the Holston Mental Hospital, recently deceased. He was also murdered. 12 hours, dear. x – JM

This one was a bit more… ordinary. The deceased was named Samuel Johnson, and it was a revenge hit- though it was not specifically aimed at him. Samuel's brother, Keenan, is a member of the Albanian drug cartel here in London. Keenan recently ratted out several of his fellow dealers to the Police, who paid him a handsome sum of money. Samuel was killed by the brother of one of the dealers that Keenan ratted out, as retaliation. They strangled him with his own bed sheet while he was sleeping. Working in a mental hospital, the nurses were used to strange noises and the occasional shouting of patients while they slept, so they did not take any notice when they heard a small commotion. The cartel thought it would make Keenan pay, but Keenan didn't really care – he still had his money. – SH

Good job, my little detective. Now comes the real part of the game. What are you prepared to lose to get your loved ones back? Choose – Hamish or John. – JM

What…what are you talking about? – SH

Isn't this simple? I've made this so much less painful for you. Instead of ripping them both away from you, I've allowed you one – a shadow of the other. The two murders I made you solve – those are the scenarios. Of course, you get to pick which type of death for whom, but ultimately, you will only get one of them back. – JM

You…you can't truly expect me to-…to choose? – SH

Well either that or … I kill both of them. – JM

Can-…can I speak to them? – SH

You have five minutes between the two of them. Savor it nicely. – JM

**(Call recorded 11:08 pm)**

"Dad? Dad is that you?" Hamish whimpered.

"Yes, it's me, I'm here." Sherlock responded, talking quickly. "Are you okay? Have they hurt you?"

"No, no, I'm okay."

"Good," Sherlock swallowed. "Is your father there? Can you put him on?"

"Sherlock? Sherlock what's going on?" John said.

"John," Sherlock's voice broke. "I'm sorry, John. I'm so sorry. I've failed. I've lost."

"What are you talking about, Sherlock?" John whispered.

"He's making me choose, John." Sherlock could barely force the words out, but he knew he had to. "Moriarty is making me choose between you, or Hamish."

John didn't speak; he _couldn't_ speak. He swallowed hard, his eyes lingering on his son who sat beside him.

"I'm sorry, John." Sherlock felt the tears beginning to roll down his cheeks. He'd never cried before, he didn't like crying.

"Sherlock, Sherlock you listen to me, okay?" John whispered, barely audible; he didn't want Hamish to hear this, he didn't want Hamish to be afraid. "Don't… Don't choose me. You can't choose me."

"I can't live without you, John." Sherlock said his voice thick with emotion. "I can't live without either of you."

"I know Sherlock, I know," John murmured, his eyes filled with tears. He turned away from Hamish, so that his son wouldn't see the sadness on his face. "But you can't choose me. Promise me that you'll choose Hamish."

"John, I-"

"Promise me!" John shouted, making Hamish jump in fright. "Promise me, Sherlock, please."

"I… I promise," Sherlock whispered, tears running down his face. "I promise, John."

John felt a tear fall down his cheek, but he turned back to Hamish, his face blank; the empty soldier. "Your father needs to speak to you," was all he said.

"Dad? Dad what's going on?" Hamish rambled, eyes wide with fear.

"Hamish, listen to me," Sherlock managed to choke. "everything's going to be alright. I'll see you soon – I promise."

**(Phone call recording ended 11:11)**

I didn't think you would be done so fast. Now make your choice. - JM

Hamish, I choose Hamish. – SH

And the means of death? – JM

The latter. – SH

Very well. Meet Sebastian in the Rosewell Park in twenty minutes. You will have him back. – JM

I'll be there. – SH

The park benches were white with frost, and each shaky breath that Sherlock exhaled seemed to numb a piece of his soul. _John was gone_.

He decided to start accepting it now, rather than when Hamish was back. It would be a mess, and Hamish didn't need that; his boy needed him to be strong.

The lamps fizzed slightly and the sleet glinted on pieces of brick on the pavement. Sherlock rustled his coat some more, trying to stay warm. His entire body felt frozen.

There was the soft pattering of feet – two pairs.

A man around six feet three, heavy stance, carrying a weapon from the displacement of his steps and not in a hurry at all. Another man, stumbling – unsure footsteps, being roughly guided.

Sherlock's entire nervous system jolted as he realized.

_No._

Sebastian Moran came into view, his blonde crop of hair and military jacket catching the moonlight nicely. He was dragging a man with him, significantly smaller, with a bag over their head. He wore a taupe jacket and a white sweater. Sebastian stopped in front of Sherlock.

"This is it then." A familiar voice broke inside the bag. Sherlock's mouth opened in a silent '_no_', stepping back. Sebastian reached up, and ripped the bag off John's head.

John blinked.

"John I-"

"Sherlock?" His pupils were significantly dilated. "No." His hand went to his mouth, and as he stepped back Sebastian pushed him forward again. "No." He wished. "No, _no, no, NO, NO!" _John screamed, his hands running through his hair. He wanted to say something different, but could barely breathe as he tried to comprehend what just happened. He squinted hard, trying to fight back the tears, but failing.

Sherlock's hand went to his mouth as well, but all he could do was let the tears wash past his eyes.

This wasn't happening.

"What did you do?" John screamed at Sherlock. "You promised! What the fuck did you do?"

"John, you don't understand…" Sherlock began, trying to explain.

"Sherlock how could you do this?" John shrieked. "How could you choose me? You promised me you wouldn't do this!" He sunk to the floor, head in his hands, as he began to sob.

Sherlock understood what had happened. He knew what was going on. He tried to move, to go to John, but he couldn't. He tried to speak, to comfort John, but he couldn't. His whole being was cold and numb.

Moriarty had decided to reverse the pick, and give Sherlock John instead of Hamish.


End file.
